


a physical fatality (the it could all be so simple remix)

by saddestboner



Category: Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Guilt, Indecision, Introspection, Sibling Incest, Uncertainty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-19 22:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14246742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/pseuds/saddestboner
Summary: Taylor’s never been surer of anything than she is of Sid and how she wants him to fit into her life.





	a physical fatality (the it could all be so simple remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sebfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/gifts).
  * Inspired by [a physical fatality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001401) by [sebfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/pseuds/sebfish). 



> In my mind, this kind of takes place around the events in [a physical fatality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001401) and before [He loves her like this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534055).
> 
> [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/profile)[ **sebfish**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/), I noticed your response to a commenter that Taylor was a lot less conflicted about her feelings and spun off from that.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/profile)[**blastellanos**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/) for looking this over, and thanks to the mods for running this challenge. 
> 
> Part of the title from "Ex-Factor" by Lauryn Hill.

Taylor’s not sure how it happened, exactly. She knows most siblings—like, ninety-nine percent of them—aren’t like her and Sid, practically living in one another’s back pocket when they’re not separated from each other by over half a day’s worth of driving. Sharing clothes, sharing food, sharing kisses.

And most siblings don’t _feel_ about each other the way she and Sid feel about each other. Or, at least, the way Taylor feels about Sid. She’s not always sure how Sid feels about her. She knows he _loves_ her, but as for the other stuff… She thinks he’s still working it out which, honestly, is fair.

Taylor’s never been surer of anything than she is of Sid and how she wants him to fit into her life.

She thinks she could wait for him to figure it out, though. Normally, Taylor’s going a hundred miles an hour, eager to keep moving. Eager to keep moving _forward_. When something doesn’t work out the way she planned or hoped for, Taylor just shrugs and presses on.

It’s also kind of why the thing with Sid scares her a little bit. What will she do if Sid decides he can’t actually do this? There are plenty of reasons for Sid to be cautious.

Taylor’s outgrown clothing, fads and trends, even relationships, but she can’t fathom leaving Sid behind.

 

 

 

They don’t talk much about what’s happening between them. It seems like they’re both content to just let it unfold and see where it goes like the river that winds through the woods behind the rustic cabin they used to spend their summers at when they were kids. Which is fine by Taylor. It’s better than playing the waiting game, wondering if Sid will be distant and hold her at arm’s length, better than trying to guess what’s running through his mind.

She knows he feels guilty. Every time their mom calls while Taylor’s haunting Sid’s house when she’s on break, Sid gets this pinched look around the eyes and at the corners of his mouth. His eyes grow a little colder and more distant, and Taylor gets an unpleasant catch in her chest.

Then he moment passes. Sid’s eyes warm up and his smile seems a little more genuine and Taylor feels the tightness in her chest unlatch like a deadbolt in her chest.

 

 

 

She doesn’t see him again until December. Taylor’s started counting down the days until Christmas break on a calendar she tacked up behind the ancient desktop computer she uses for their Skype sessions.  

They make plans to “hang out” before departing for Cole Harbor, for Christmas.

The way Sid say it—“let’s hang out, just the two of us”—sends excitement fizzing through Taylor’s body like someone dumped Alka-Seltzer into her bloodstream.

Something is going to happen, she can feel it. The absolute surety of this feeling vibrates through her and rattles around in her chest.

Sid’s finally made his choice, and it’s her. He’s chosen Taylor, he’s chosen this thing they’re definitely going to do that they’re still not really talking about.

Taylor packs appropriately for the weather, throwing in cable-knit sweaters, lots of scarves and mittens. She also packs her vibrator and stuffs some lacy lingerie into a hidden inner pocket in her duffel bag.

Anticipation wraps around her throat like a fist.

 

 

 

Sid picks her up at the airport and he’s quiet for most of the drive back to his place. Taylor fiddles with her carry-on bag in her lap, her foot bouncing compulsively.

She thinks about the sexy lingerie and the vibrator she impulsively stuffed into her duffel bag before she left.

She thinks about Sid’s full lips pressing against hers, and then against other places on her body. The backs of her knees are super sensitive, and she imagines Sid kissing her there. When she lets her eyes drift shut—she’s only pretending to be asleep—she can practically see Sid’s skilled hands moving over her skin, his fingers curling and beckoning her to come.

“How was your flight?” Sid asks. He reaches over and, for a moment, Taylor thinks he’s going to grab her knee, but he just turns the heat up another notch.

“Fine,” she says, tightening her arms around her carry-on bag.

“You hungry?” he asks. “I don’t have much at the house, but we could order in.”

“Sure,” Taylor says, shrugging. She’s hungry, but she’s not really interested in food.

Sid nods, falling silent. He turns the radio up—some country-pop tune Taylor’s not familiar with—and hums along with it, tonelessly.

She sits back and glances out the window. Wisps of gray clouds and gray asphalt and gray, skeletal trees whip by in a blur.

Taylor touches a fingertip to the window and drags it through the frost that’s gathering inside.

 

 

 

Taylor’s digging around in Sid’s fridge, pulling out a bundle of kale, some bananas, and beets for a potential smoothie, when he wanders into the kitchen all tousled and sleepy from his nap. He rubs the grit out of his eyes and leans back against the granite counter while Taylor puts the kale and beets next to his hip.

“What’re you making?” he asks.

“I dunno. A whatever’s-in-the-fridge smoothie?” Taylor grabs a jug of lemon juice and eyes it, consideringly, before putting it on the counter and shutting the fridge.

“We need to talk,” Sid says, which startles her into a laugh.

“Straight to the point,” Taylor says, as she vaults up onto the tips of her toes and opens a cabinet. She pulls down his blender and sets it on the counter, then turns to face Sid. “Yeah? What about?”

She’s going to make him say it. She’ll wait him out if she has to.

Sid crosses his arms over his chest and glances away from her, as he chews on his bottom lip. Finally: “I want this.”

He puts a hand out to touch her arm, as if she didn’t know what he meant.

Normally Taylor would be a little shit about it because he blushes so furiously when she gives him a hard time, but she just nods and slides her hand over Sid’s on her arm.

“I do too,” she says, squeezing his hand carefully like he might flee if she makes any sudden movements.

“We’ve gotta be careful though,” he continues, slipping his hand away from her arm to catch her around the waist.

“I know,” Taylor sighs, as she rests her palms flat over Sid’s chest. “Your career.”

“Yours too,” he adds.

And he’s right. This could blow up on both of them, not just Sid.

But it won’t. They’ll be careful—they always have been, about everything—and it’ll work. They’ll get to have this special, fragile thing. It’ll _work_.

Taylor leans in and presses her lips softly over Sid’s, her hands still resting lightly over his chest.

She knows he feels guilty still—he flinched just slightly as she slotted their mouths together—but he slips his arms around her and pulls her against his chest anyway. He’s the one who deepens the kiss, pulling a hand away from her hip to cup at the back of her head and push his tongue into her mouth.

Taylor’s never been surer about anything than she is right now, as Sid curls his fingers in her hair and strokes his tongue against hers. She knots her hands in the back of his shirt. She can feel Sid pressing against her, pushing her back against the countertop.

 He pulls his mouth away from hers. “Is this okay? Are you—”

“It’s okay, Sid,” Taylor says, tugging on his shirt, her fingers twisting in the soft cotton. “Shut up and kiss me again. Please.”

 Sid looks at her for a long, silent moment before he leans back in and slides his lips over hers.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
